Dream escape
by Mirae-no-sekai
Summary: Falling asleep isn't what it once was...  Veery light pairing, but you can guess which one it is ;


Riku has a problem with nighttime. It isn't about the hour, or the lull of the still-rolling waves, or the way that the streetlights begin to wake and gleam.

It's a bit of a reminder. A bit of a heavy weight, pulling at him from his chest in. What he hasn't told anyone, but not because Riku won't tell. He doesn't remember just what was it – and surely, Riku doesn't want to remember. It's probably something to do with the darkness and those deeds committed while… high, in a way. When all bowed down to him, and everything just teetered too close to gaze into the inviting abyss.

Riku thought he might need to lay off on the melodramas that Kairi had grown fond of. He can't blame her, with all the waiting she had to do, and better she latched on to Selphie instead of one of the more belligerent islanders.

Point was, sleep was usually no rest, clichéd as it sounded. It brought a nightly-hollow voice, black-cloaked ravens singing out those lies and truths that Riku just wanted to deny. It brought those images of sleeping as dead, of flowery glass coffins and pirate ships.

After those last two images, dawn was far off and _maybe_ midnight was setting in. And Riku would be bolting away, white on white walls blinking at him. A mirror him, clad differently, would usually be running parallel on the reflected corridors – and always in sight, even when Riku just kept his eyes glued on the floor carved with runes and smoke-blood. Then, and it was always after Riku frantically tried to shove the other him running though an equally empty corridor from his mind to no avail, there'd be a shadow blooming to his side, corner of his eyes, and blurring a bit at the edges. Then soaring forwards, _somehow_ erasing off a bit of the void around him.

The only thing Riku can figure out by this point is follow the shadow. It _won't_ make sense later, but it's a dream only, and a thing like that is the sensible option by now. The corridors flutter out into cities and alleys which bristle with life and lights, and the shadow ceases hovering. She – Riku knows that this shadow is a female, despite the other option being equally valid – continues her run, not ever breaking for a breath or spinning around, and his name can be heard over the din and hum of the surroundings. They begin to flicker out as well, soon enough, only the shadow-girl remaining, tangled up in a spider-web of lights and words.

Riku realizes his dreams are surreal and that he probably needs some good therapy sessions – a surrogate of the usually cynical, sane Riku which is trying to get some mileage out of the sleep. But the shadow-girl will call out, or open her eyes; it doesn't matter because the effect is the same.

He rushes forwards to help, even without knowing who she is. Her eyes look sad, and suddenly he's back home, in his bed to top it off, with the soothing sound of waves in the background. But Riku knows that this is a dream – he's never lived this close to the ocean, and the waves sound human. Or maybe alive. So Riku dream-rises, and walks off the bedroom, to be met by the shadow he was chasing, perched on the scruffy couch wringing her hands on her lap.

She wears a black cloak, which blinks off into ice and sea-water. Black hair struggles to fall on her face, but Riku never saw her that disheveled, so it just hover-falls there. Blue eyes, deep blue and synthetic, but Riku is registering that here, she can sort of exist and sort of feel.

What happens after this, Riku usually doesn't know. She speaks; he hears the soft rush of tides add to her voice. Her hands caress his, or wrinkle that bizarre attire of hers – he prefers the former, but she usually never indulges him. She is forever a millimeter beyond his reach, when her hands will ghost over his knee or her black hair will trace a path in the air just beyond his outstretched fingers. She almost dodges the motions with fluid grace – he reaches for her hand, she'll wave it as she illustrates a point that neither of them cares to hear. Riku moves as if to encircle her shoulders, she stands up to look at him straight on – blue clashing with wide-open aqua.

He never gets to catch her name. But here, if Riku plays it right, she'll willingly take his hands. At times, he'll receive one of those now-tacky charms that Kairi used to make with seashells. With a melancholic smile from her, because the real kind she only manages when speaking simply to him, and not like this when the star heralds the waking up of dawn.

Riku understands this. He won't see her, not until the nightmares fall again and she falls back among the unwelcome phantoms which yes, she also despises. They share this, he and the dead girl who lives in dreams.

And Riku doesn't ever want to accept that star, because it means that he'll be gone, and _look down_; she is fading, fading, _fading…_

Riku wakes up when her face is the last thing he sees of her. The star has faded into him clutching at the necklace he's not removing – he promised it to someone, and it probably is someone dead. There is no sea calling to him, but the shadow he casts seems to be pointing towards it, seeking a counterpart that won't be there.

It'll be him napping on the beach, as he used to tell Sora not to do. Dreaming about something, and maybe doing what he longs to do in the nighttime illusion-jaunts:

Riku will find out that girl-shadow's name. And bring her out – there's karma demanding it, and that awkward feeling in his chest that he simply can't dismiss her as a dream.

This time, the first thing he sees on closing his eyes is her hand, gloved as always. He simply reaches towards it.


End file.
